Through A Tinted Veil
by x Veela x
Summary: As it has been observed, Fleur tends to see the world rather differently... x x x
1. Prologue, Brown

**Disclaimer: Oh, here we go again… no, surprise, surprise, I do not own the HP universe.**

**The prologue is very short, I know, it is designed that way so it gives you the foundation of the story as it gives Fleur the foundation of her life. The chapters are longer and not in the first person.**

**Welcome to my new story, yet again it involves Fleur…and later Bill…If you have read _Red The Senses_ you may think this will be a bit similar – well, it is, but it's not…**

**Through A Tinted Veil**

_Prologue – Brown_

As I look back on my childhood, it is as thought looking at the sepia picture slides Grandpere used to show me. Although from the eyes of the other little girls wishing desperately to be me, my life was glamorous and bursting with excitement, I never saw it that way.

I was treated like a princess, I snapped my delicate, French manicured fingers and a house elf appeared to do whatever I commanded it to do. There did not have to be an occasion for mon pere to present me with elegant, expensive silk dress, milky satin sheets, bright, flashy flowers from Spain that lasted a day as a hair ornament, finest foreign food delicacies or sparkling gems in jewellery worth galleons.

The only sparkle in my life then was ma sœur Gabrielle; the rest was dull and dreary. All ma mere was interested in was her social circle; the only thing mon pere cared about were his newspaper and business. I was on my own, surrounded by "friends" who only liked "me" because of my possessions or status; I never wanted to play with them. Oui, some may call it snobby, but I felt that it was necessary to create that solitary shield to protect me from the cruel ways of society.

After a while, the children gave up pestering me; I saw this as a favour. Sitting under the teacher's nose by myself where no-one else wanted to sit forced me to pay full attention to the classes of my Primary School education that set the basis for the _Fleur _today.

Before, I was "fleur", the pretty Delacour daughter. As I grew up, I become _"Fleur"_. My name alone conjured up an image of haughty perfection. I received admires and wolf whistles along with envious and jealous glares; I grew used to them.

With the ice barrier I created, I shielded Gabrielle as I could not have done for myself, keeping her heart warm and open where mine had turned cold and closed. It turned out that I was going to need the warmth she gave me when my world turned grey.

**The next chapter is nearly finished, so you won't have long to wait.**

**Reviews would be appreciated x x x**

**x Imperial Princess x**


	2. Chapter I, Grey

Disclaimer: Sigh, the time you spend wishing you owned this amazing series is wasted – you could be writing that you don't own it, now doesn't that sound better…

Excuse my French, it may not be correct. I have not done French for 2 years and you will know what I mean without it being one hundred percent perfect. It does not need correcting – when I get a chance, I will correct it myself, but I thought you would like the next chapter sooner with incorrect French rather than later with perfect French.

**Through A Tinted Veil**

_Chapter I - Grey_

**Previously:**

_With the ice barrier I created, I shielded Gabrielle as I could not have done for myself, keeping her heart warm and open where mine had turned cold and closed. It turned out that I was going to need the warmth she gave me when my world turned grey._

The dark mahogany turned to black; the light caramel turned to white. The colours swirled into one – most of the white stayed behind along with my home and Gabrielle.

Mrs Delacour pulled her eleven-year-old daughter into a final hug and kissed her cheeks before the porter lifter Fleur's case from her hand. He ushered her towards the gigantic chain of winged carriages behind a team of well muscled over-size horses that would carry her away from home towards Beauxbatons. Waving out of the window to her family gathered below, Fleur's flat stomach gave a sudden lurch as the carriages hurtled into the frosty air.

They streamed into to fluffy, but off-white clouds as Fleur shut the crystal window. She turned in her seat to see who she would be spending her new life at school with. As she scanned around, her eyes fell upon protective shields very similar to her own, icy eyes defiantly meeting her own, not wanting to be the first to step forward in case they would be the misfit.

Looking down at her white and pale blue designer dress with matching gloves, Fleur smiled inwardly to herself as she recognised the designer labels hiding in the carriage member's garments. She saw herself reflected in each girl's eyes. They held shield's of frozen water yet to shed a drip, and kept their superior masks tied firmly in position.

"Bonjour," Fleur greeted the carriage. "Je m'appelle Fleur, comment s'appelles vous?" At this polite enquiry, they each timidly gave their names and a little bit about themselves until the atmosphere strengthen, and the tension that could have previously decimated with a knife had evaporated. The carriage now buzzed with curiosity amongst still slightly reserved conversation.

Fleur was reminded of the memorable time she visited some of her father's friends in England. She remembered how the all stood a metre apart from each other, this only changing when they shook hands formally in greeting. She recalled the boring dinner and dance party she had been forced to attend without Gabrielle because she was too young. Fleur was seated in one side of an old man very much like her Grandfather who kindly entertained her with tales of his life in the Second World War that kept obstructing his marriage plans for his then-fiancée who was sitting on his other side, contributing with smiles, tinkling laughs and little details.

When the couple left to dance, however, Fleur mistakenly turned to her left and found herself involved engaged in the most boring conversation imaginable. The meal had finished and the section of dieting young ladies like her mother and their daughters she now found herself caught up in were drinking the most revolting substance called tea. She had inwardly sighed and found herself obliged to gaze wide-eyed at descriptions, or "ooh" and "ahh" at the latest English fashion they were discussing that were years ahead of the French and were of no consequence to her.

By the end of the night, Fleur had counted that the small crystal glasses only had six patterned sides of glass, but the larger crystal glasses had ten. This inequality contrasted with her other calculated discovery that there were one hundred and eighteen flowers on the top border of every wall.

During her trip down memory lane, Fleur's eyes had not glazed over, exactly, but held a look of haughty boredom that had prevented the others from questioning her. She realised that she had not been caught daydreaming and had not missed anything other than a hobbies discussion. As the topic moved onto families, Fleur mused that, if Gabrielle were here with her they would play their game of pretending to be princesses at their Royal Party. Well, what harm would it do to play it by herself?

Fleur drew herself up, gathering her cloak to swirl from her shoulders to her feet as she elegantly sat down again, her feet placed tog ether to one side. Quite subtly, the others collected their spread out cloaks neatly around them to trace their profiles and uncrossed their legs. She nearly laughed aloud; Fleur realised that they had been copying her all along!

As time passed in her first year, Fleur kept this group of girls very close to her. Her act dropped a little, but she adopted some of it into her personality; with the ever-present support around her, Fleur's face softened along with her heart. At Beauxbatons from the very beginning, she was respected, loved and the undisputed leader.

But, as Fleur found out, living with the status of a princess was no more exciting than living with the life of one. She had fun with her friends, of course, they were always laughing, chatting, and gossiping with each other. They went to the beach in the holidays and charmed and flirted with the boys; Fleur could not help but notice, however, that the girls waited for _her_ to decide which one she liked best before they paired off with his friends. Although the veela would have won every unwanted competition against her friends, Fleur had the feeling that she was offered first choice of everything.

Another year passed, the school getting more paranoid about the return of You Know Who. Legends about the heroics of the young Harry Potter had been spiralling out. It appeared the power-hungry dictator had vanished, but a returned was predicted.

The antics of the merciless torturer were put aside for a year as tales of the elusive wrong-doer Sirius Black were spilling out over the globe. However, the only difference this made to Fleur's monotonous life was that at the end of her mother's weekly letter was included each snippet of gossip about the convicted criminal.

Fleur returned to Beauxbatons after celebrating her seventeenth birthday at home with urges and pleas to study as hard as she could from previously unconcerned parents. Before, they had not minded what marked their daughter received as long as she looked the best in the year and did nothing to drag the Delacour name through the mud. Fleur neer failed that challenge, but she had never failed her subject either. She was never top in her year, but without much study or attention to classes, Fleur could pass quite well. Although confused at the request to develop her concentration levels, Fleur's parents rarely told her what to do; therefore, she did as she was told and was rewarded well for it.

When Madame Maxime announced that Beauxbatons would be taking a select few students to the English Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry to compete in the Tri-wizard Tournament, Fleur understood, and was grateful for her warning.

Madame Maxime proceeded to announce who the select few were and hearing cheers and applause, with the extra study that allowed her a place in the line of Beaxbatons's cream, Fleur gracefully ascended the steps to the carriage where this part of her like had begun.

As she had first done to her family many years before, Fleur turned around in her seat after drawing the window shut, finished with waving to some of her friends that were not coming. Like before, Fleur looked around the carriage and was struck by the beauty of the blue-caped Beauxbatons girls. She smiled proudly as they returned her smiles a little nervously when she observed them.

It was a good thing Fleur was fond of blue; she was going to be seeing a lot of it as she moved forward into the next phase of her life.

**Well, there you are, here ends the first chapter. I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Reviews would be appreciated x x x**

x Imperial Princess x


	3. Chapter II, Blue

**Disclaimer: You're sure you're not fed up of seeing these yet? No? Oh, well here we go again. This little bit is wholly reserved for stating that I do not own HP. Now, doesn't that bit of computer screen feel privileged…**

**Grrr the movie is irritating me, so I will make a point of the fact that Beauxbatons is not an all girls school and I have the book on my lap as I'm typing this open at page 215 proving me right.**

**-**

**This chapter has been reworked slightly as I realised I had a few paragraphs of the next chapter and this chapter confused.**

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**Through A Tinted Veil**

_Chapter II- Blue_

**Previously:**

_As she had first done to her family many years before, Fleur turned around in her seat after drawing the window shut, finished with waving to some of her friends that were not coming. Like before, Fleur looked around the carriage and was struck by the beauty of the blue-caped Beauxbatons girls. She smiled proudly as they returned her smiles a little nervously when she observed them._

_It was a good thing Fleur was fond of blue; she was going to be seeing a lot of it as she moved forward into the next phase of her life._

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Her tiny heart was racing, undetectable from the composed expression on her face. She was going to Hogwarts to represent her school and her country. Oh, she wished so hard that it would be her that was picked! It would mean so much to her and all of those who really knew her. She could prove that she really was the best. Fleur had never been called the best in anything tilting towards academically achieving and she longed for that title with a passion that surprised her as much as it would surprise anyone else.

She had tried so hard to get here and was proud of how far she had gone, but it would mean so much just to get that little bit further. It would prove to all those sneering snobs behind her back, left home in France without her glory, that although she was part veela, she was as clever, if not more, than they were.

She heard a thud as the wheels touched the crowd and an excited chatter. It was just as she had imagined – their arrival was part of the ceremony. The following few hours, however, did not go as smoothly with Fleur's plan.

The carriage doors were opened immediately and Madame Maxime descended the golden steps as applause broke out. As the Headmaster greeted her, the Beauxbatons boys waited patiently for the girls to exit the carriage before they stepped out themselves.

Fleur shivered in the cold air – it was freezing! She pulled her scarf closer to her as she gazed upon the huge oak door apprehensively. Madame Maxime chose for her and her students to warm up rather than wait for their third competitors, for which Fleur and those surrounding her were very grateful. As they walked towards the school, the crowds parted to let them through. Fleur looked around subtly as she walked and noticed that the French expressions were quite unenthusiastic and decidedly blue. Whether it was from the cold or the implications of the school and Tournament life, she did not know.

Led into a hall a bit smaller than in Beauxbatons, they were greeted by four long tables. There was a slight hesitation as they gazed dispiritedly about the room. The ceiling itself was the focal point, imitating the sky outside. It was a pity that the sky outside at the moment was a dark blue, speckled with only a few stars. Fleur looked at the banners displaying their house's colour above the table and then back down at her uniform. She just loved everything to match.

"_Peut-tre devrions-nous nous asseoir ici?"_ She asked gesturing to table underneath the shields of blue and silver. Glad that someone had made a decision, the Beauxbatons pretended to consider it for a moment before taking their places at the Ravenclaw table.

They watched as the hall filled around them and looked disinterestedly at the goings on. Their eyes seems fixed on the door ready for something to happen. This moment became apparent when their Headmistress entered. Fleur rose to her feet with the others from Beauxbatons. When a few laughs could be heard, they still stood unabashed and waited for Madame Maxime to sit down before copying her.

The Headmaster of their hosting school remained standing to welcome them all, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly guests," he smiled at us and Fleur's suspicion of him lessened a tad – at least his manners were acceptable, "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts." _Oh, vraiment?_ Fleur thought to herself, somehow, she doubted if he had been to France, if he was proud of his drab "Great" Hall. He carried on, unaware that his Beauxbatons audience were not enamoured, "I hope and trust that you stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." At this, as much as she held onto her muffler, Fleur could not contain her laughter.

A bushy brunette hissed across at her, "No one's making you stay!" Fleur pretended that she hadn't heard her and inwardly promised herself that she would show that girl how guests behave. She had not had the high social training for nothing. Fleur removed her muffler and shook her hair back so it draped down her back. It was not quite as effective as a cloak, but it would do.

She waited for her moment patiently and silently crept to it as the redhead next to the brunette seemed to be muttering about the man who was looking after their horses. "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" She had put on her best English and she knew it was mostly correct. The redhead seemed to have succumbed to her veela heritage, but the boy with a messy mop of jet black hair answered her,

"Yeah, have it." As he looked up from pushing the dish towards her, she noticed a scar on his forehead. _Harry Potter._ Her mind told her. Fleur was perfecting her manners now as she made sure not to stare at him,

"You 'ave finished wiz it?" She checked again as she polished her politeness.

"Yeah,"_ Oh, alors __**maintenant**__, le garon a retrouv ses sens, _"Yeah, it was excellent." Fleur looked at the untouched dish and smiled, now assured that he had not dipped a fork in to taste it. She refused to let herself imagine if he had tasted it without a fork. She picked it up and carried it carefully off, back to her waiting friends, paying no attention to the stares she received on her way.

Fleur sat through the second course and the introduction of the tournament gloating to herself and feeling slightly miffed that Gabrielle was not there to witness her success. The students in the hall were silent as Fleur listened to the rest of the Professor's speech.

"As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector … the Goblet of Fire." Fleur mentally translated his speech into her own tongue and realised that now was the time. She watched as the man brought a cup out of the casket and heard a general intake of breath as everyone noted the blue-white flames that filled it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fleur huddled with her peers as they struggled to keep themselves warm in the chilly air. She shivered as someone held the door open for her to ascend the steps up to the carriage. Her pale fingers clutched at the icy side as she took one look at the inky sky before she was enveloped in the warmth of the carriage. It had been transformed to represent their beds at Beauxbatons, and Fleur's eyes scanned the semi-darkness for her own mahogany trunk.

Her bed was nearest to the window on the farthest side of the carriage, the silk curtain pulled back with a shadowy tassel. Fleur glided over to her bed, weaving her way around what appeared to be a screen down the centre of the carriage, separating boys from girls. Kneeling up on the soft duvet, she peered out of the window. That huge man was grooming the horses with surprising gentleness for his size. Not as well as their Beauxbatons' stable boys, of course, but he would do, for now.

Reluctantly, at the request of her peers, she tugged at the ties until the curtains slithered together, blocking out the few white lights far out into the galaxy. Slipping out of her warm clothes was a chore that she had been putting off, though when the smooth azure of her satin nightdress shimmied down her body and she snuggled into the engulfing warmth of her bed, Fleur's coldness melted away.

She missed her friends and Gabrielle. Her poor sister had no-one to shoo away the bed-bugs from the pristine dormitory. Her friends would be discussing celebrities and gossiping without her. Looking around, the glimmering candles flickered, illuminating translucent sides of many paged tomes, captivating their riveted studious audience. She did not fit in here, amongst all these people who lay awake reading textbooks, hoping it would be them that would bring eternal glory to their school. Fleur did not begrudge them this wish – indeed, it was a universal desire shared by all around her. They caught her gaze, and smiled at her warmly. Perhaps her group of friends at home were a little too unsympathetic towards these naturally clever girls. Indeed, they did not tease her for being naturally beautiful.

Fleur smiled back; a real smile sharing anxieties and hopes. Although there was a certain element of competitiveness, overwhelming it was a sense of unity, each student wishing each other the chance to succeed. As her eyes slid shut so that her view of her fellows was traded for a black screen, Fleur spiralled into sleep, waiting for the time to come.

_**Un**_ _**grand merci à Unutma!**_

_**I'd really like it if you reviewed; I'm quite proud of that chapter!**_

_**Love,**_

_**x Imperial Princess x**_


	4. Chapter III, Black

**Disclaimer: No, sadly I didn't write Harry Potter. It is a fact that grieves me greatly.**** Speech is taken from **_**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,**_** (UK edition) Pages 236 – 306.**

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**Important notice: The last chapter has been reworked, but I didn't want to delete it and resubmit it because of all your lovely reviews. I'd appreciate it if you would go back and read it – just the last section has been altered.**

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**Through A Tinted Veil**

_Chapter III - Black_

**Previously:**

_Fleur smiled back; a real smile sharing anxieties and hopes. Although there was a certain element of competitiveness, overwhelming it was a sense of unity, each student wishing each other the chance to succeed. As her eyes slid shut so that her view of her fellows was traded for a black screen, Fleur spiralled into sleep, waiting for the time to come._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, The Beauxbatons students were gathered into a line as the crowd around the cup moved back to let them through, led by Madame Maxime. As Fleur moved closer and closer to the front, she took out her slip of parchment bearing her name and school. She looked at the sapphire ink and checked it again.

_Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons_ was written in her loopy but neat handwriting. She stepped past the glittering age line and dropped her parchment into the flames. Like they did with all the others, they turned red for a second and shot out sparks.

As the blinding light faded slightly and Fleur blinked to chase the imprint of the flames off her vision she noted that there was a change in her surroundings. It was very subtle and seemed familiar, just like the world in her childhood. It was different, however, and Fleur took another last look at the Goblet of Fire before walking out the hall. There was a slight drop in her stomach as she realised the slight difference.

She passed through the doors with apprehension, wondering what the next few weeks had in store for her. The tint to her vision had darkened to black.

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

Fleur's nerves were getting the better of her as the seconds ticked by. It was nearly time for the feast. _Well,_ she added to herself, _the "feast". _The house-elves had clearly worked hard last night to provide the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students with some home delicacies, an effort that she appreciated, although she wondered if she was too nervous tonight to do more than push her meal around her plate.

As the golden plates and extravagant dishes appeared before her, Fleur's mind turned towards the golden glory her school would hopefully bring home as she served herself petite helpings. The feast seemed even slower than the previous evening, conversation washing over her as waves lapped against sandcastle, slowly eroding it into crumbing remnants.

Finally, when she could almost bear it no longer, the plates were pristine once more; there was an increase in the chatter, as if a hive of bees were impatiently waiting for the summer season. Fixing her eyes on Madame Maxime, Fleur observed she looked a little anxious –a state that matched most of the students. The almost tangible anticipation lingering in the atmosphere grew until at last, the Headmaster of Hogwarts rose to his feet.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," His voice boomed with a mysterious air, filling the expansive room before him. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' name are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber –" Fleur's eyes were drawn to the aim of his gesture at a small door almost hidden behind the staff table, "- where they will be receiving their first instructions."

With a grandiose arch of his wand, the Hall blackened as the majority of candles were extinguished; her eyes adjusted to the inky scene slowly as the flames burned with a bright fury. She suddenly jumped along with the rest of the students as ruby flames leaped into the air, spitting out the Durmstrang champion – Viktor Krum. Fleur's mind clicked as she realised he was the famous Bulgarian seeker. _Well, of course it would be __him__.  
_

A daunting sense of apprehension descended upon her as the tumultuous applause fizzled out. Her stomach felt as though it trapped butterflies – or even bees as the flames emitted another piece of charred parchment along with its vivid flames. "The champion for Beauxbatons," Fleur sat up slightly straighter, as though if she craned her neck enough, she could see the writing, "is Fleur Delacour!" As though in a surreal daze, she elegantly stood up, flicking back her satin hair as she glided between two long tables. Initially, for a brief moment, she felt slightly sorry for the girls who had not been chosen; she did not need to turn around to hear their tears. That was overridden by an enormous sense of self satisfaction and achievement. She had been chosen! Out of all her school, it was her that was the best! Oh, Gabrielle and the girls would be so proud of her – if only they were here.

As she slowly stepped down into the room designated for the champions (her heart leapt as she thought about it), Fleur watched as portraits of witches and wizards applauded her. She joined the two boys round the roaring fire, thanking the Hogwarts student for his congratulations, before listening to the sounds from the Hall. It had gone strangely quiet.

Looking into the flames, she heard the door creak open again. Assuming it would be the staff members, she was perplexed when, from the darkness, emerged a teenager – the boy from last night – _Harry Potter_. She wondered if Hogwarts was trying to impress her with their messenger, "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?" She asked him. He just stood stationary, as if afraid to come into the light. All of a sudden, the room was a frenzy of action was the usual incident was explained.

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The bees had returned to her stomach, although Fleur knew exactly what was going to do. The Beauxbatons pupils along with Madame Maxime had discussed her Task excitedly last night; their initial upset at her becoming their champion had evaporated and condensed into unwavering support. She tried to listen to the man bouncing before her – Bagman she recalled his name to be. He held up a dark purple silk bag,

"I'm going to be offering each of you this bag, from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different – er – varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too … ah, yes … your task is to _collect the golden egg_!"

She did not react, wishing upon her Veela heritage the she did not get the _Hungarian Horntail_.

"Ladies first," bagman offered her the writhing bag. She willed her hand not to shake so as she cautiously dipped it into the murky depths and felt a warm tinge as she enclosed her tiny hand around a smoking dragon – the _Welsh Green_. A look of determined resignation etched upon her face – ready to perform the best that she could. Glancing at the little number two around its neck, she remembered telling Gabrielle, "Second the best!"

The wait was agonising as she paced around the small tent, trying her hardest not to listen to the commentary. She clutched her wand and held her chin resolutely up as she emerged to the words, "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

The dragon glare at her menacingly, though she stared it down. Forgetting the black scales as she timidly stepped onto a rock just out of its line of fire. She smiled disarmingly at the dragon, concentrating on her wand. The silver glow of her hair surrounded the wand as she twirled at, skipping over the rocks away from the hot smoke. Her hair would definitely need washing straight after. The smoke spiralled into her face, blackening her vision, though she tried to concentrate upon her ancestry.

She heightened her Veela charm as she danced around the dragon, going around and around as its eyes flickered closed. The silver glow had enclosed her now as well as the dragon dazed itself into a trance. The nostrils flared dangerously as it relaxed upon its side, exposing the sunshine-like egg just before its forepaw that supported the head.

The gasps of the crow fell on deaf ears, full of a ringing and the steady rhythm of the dragon's breathing. Fleur edged closer to the egg, as quietly as she could manage whilst her charm held. Her fingers closed around cold metal as there was a sudden disruption to the breathing. As the dragon snored, a scorching shot of fire emerged from the flaring nostril, scalding her knee. A flashback of that painful fall from the swing suddenly came to her, blocking out the pain. Her vision was full of choking dark grey smoke, as her skirt caught fire.

Picking her way as fast as she could across the nest-shaped rocks, she shot a jet of icy water from her wand, breaking her Veela charm as the flames on her skirt died away and her leg was bathed in cool liquid.

Proudly holding up her egg, it was as though a volume control was suddenly switched back on. Applause rang through the enclosure; there was a slight falter in Fleur's smile. After her marks were shown, she puzzled out the difference in her surroundings. Fleur double-checked her vision. Her smile flashed around once more as she concluded that the colour was lighter, the lavender purple perhaps signifying a happier continuing phase.

_**I hope this chapter didn't seem too distant from the lack of French – I will modify the language of her thoughts when I have a chance. I'd love to know what you all think, too.**_

_**Love,**_

_**x Imperial Princess x**_


	5. Chapter IV, Purple

**Disclaimer: Still, after a year of writing on here, no talent spotter has read my writing to discover that I am in fact, JK Rowling… Though I think that's because I'm not, seeing as I don't own her books, and all.**

**This chapter has been edited, so if it feels familiar, you've probably read the first version only.**

**Speech is taken from **_**Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,**_** (UK edition) Pages 360 –364.**

**Through A Tinted Veil**

_Chapter IV – Purple_

**Previously:**

_Applause rang through the enclosure; there was a slight falter in Fleur's smile. After her marks were shown, she puzzled out the difference in her surroundings. Fleur double-checked her vision. Her smile flashed around once more as she concluded that the colour was lighter, the lavender purple perhaps signifying a happier continuing phase._

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The excitement of Christmas Day was not as magical in England as it was in France, though there was a buzz of animation whizzing around the Beauxbatons carriages as they prepared for the Yule Ball. It was nearing half past seven in the evening, and the doors to the Great Hall would be opened at eight o'clock. There was a flurry of action in Fleur's carriage, girls chasing around in various states of undress, scrabbling about for the perfect shade of lilac eye shadow and cries of frustration adding to the din as one curl did not set perfectly amongst the others.

Nail varnish-drying charms were being practiced to perfection, the amethyst mist emitted rising above the heads of the Beauxbatons Students to create a magical aura of clouds above the chattering young ladies. Mirrors were scattered about the place covering almost every surface, reflecting the frantic activity almost in an effort to double it.

Combining perfumes wafted around as the finishing touches of jewellery were selected and the last minute primping took place. Slowly, as seven thirty approached, the Beauxbatons beauties slowed down to check that they looked as stunning as possible. They had come to Hogwarts to show off their school, and had made every effort to do so.

As the doors to the Beauxbatons carriage opened, a gust of harsh wind drew an exclamation from the students stepping out onto the dark grass. Fleur delicately lifted up the hem of her silvery dress as she made her way along with the others over the sweeping lawns of Hogwarts.

They only took a few steps, however, before they saw the transformation of the front lawn, re-designed for the Yule Ball. There was a twisting maze of rose bushes that had become the habitat of hundreds of live fairies. The small creatures twinkled as each glowing light reflected off of another's. Decorative, winding paths interlaced with each other through the network of scented bushes. As Fleur approached, she heard a splash of water droplets flowing, and discovered an ornate water fountain rising above the hedges in the centre of the design.

It was not as grand as the style the Beauxbatons students were accustomed to, but. She rather liked the gardens, even though she did not want to admit it. Hogwarts had done reasonably well to produce such a thrilling atmosphere outside.

She exchanged glances and smiles with her fellow students, some nervously clutching arms of boyfriends, some chatting fervently over new dates from Bulgaria or England. Fleur's thoughts turned to Roger Davies, the Quidditch captain of the blue house – Ravenclaw, was it? She had sat next to him for the past few evenings, and she had to acknowledge that he wasn't that bad, compared to some of the Hogwarts students.

His English accent was clear cut, although his appearance was a little tame. There was a mischievous glitter to his eyes that she liked, and he treated her with such care. Yes, she knew her Veela charm had most likely affected him. When he asked her to the ball, it seemed like the words just fell out of his mouth, though perhaps with a little more decorum than the other offers she graciously declined.

His hair was long enough to fall into his eyes, though when he swept it back it remained so for a few seconds. He had a permanent windswept look about him, probably from spending so much time on the Quidditch pitch. He had told Fleur about his career hopes – if he did not succeed as a professional Quidditch player, he hoped to find a placement in Egypt investigating ancient prophecies, shrines and pyramids.

As Fleur and the Beauxbatons students ascended the stone steps, feeling the Warming charm surrounding the gardens fade slightly. The large oak front doors were standing wide open, ready to receive their guests. Inside the Entrance Hall, they were confronted with hundreds of student creating a throng brimming with excitement and anticipation. The Entrance Hall was alive with animated chatter, nervous laughter and a few flirtatious smiles. Compliments were winging their way all over along with jealous comments from a handful of the girls whilst boys shot the occasional couple suspicious glances.

She left the safety of her school friends and glided over to Roger, who was standing tall on the lower steps of the marble staircase, waiting for her with an amazed grin. She returned a charming smile back and ignored the stares and whispers surrounding her, tailing her like a shadow. Fleur she greeted him with a kiss on each cheek, taking his arm as he lead her through the crowd to meet some of his friends.

They all seemed surprised when Roger brought her over to the small gathering of about three couples. It pleased her that his friends tried not to stare at her, and she greeted them along with their dates politely, involving herself in the conversation.

Once Fleur began to relax, and feel comfortable in Roger's presence, they turned around at the call, "Champions over here, please!" from the Deputy Headmistress. She was bedecked in tartan robes, a wreath of thistles adorning her hat. At one time, Fleur would have scoffed and snubbed the outfit, but now she smiled. She saw that the witch had made an effort – and probably had found it quite a difficult one to make in such an atmosphere of mocking youths.

The Champions and their dates waited patiently whilst the students settled themselves in the Hall. Fleur was becoming quite accustomed to this feeling of nervousness. Roger thoughtfully offered her his arm, and she accepted gracefully as the Deputy Headmistress requested for them to line up in pairs and prepare to enter the hall.

She was at the head of the line and a smile automatically washed over her face as a sensation of numbness spread through her body. She started walking into the Great Hall at the witch's gesture and a gale of applause broke out form the gathered students, staff, and judges. They walked through the parting of the students to a large round table awaiting them at the top of the Hall. The judges were seated and the champions took their places. Madame Maxime gave her a special smile as she politely applauded. Roger pulled out her seat for her and she sat down, taking in the Hall's transformation.

The four long tables had been replaced with many smaller circular tables with pretty lanterns splashing a soft glow on each table. About twelve chairs surrounded each table, though there was no food upon any of the tables. Fleur glanced up to see that the starry black sky was decorated with mistletoe garlands interlaced with tendrils of ivy. She swept the Hall with disdainful eyes, encompassing a scene of near total delight, the odd singular soul who had not managed to find themselves a date morosely (or sulkily) eyeing the eager couples. Everything was covered in a sparkling frost giving the atmosphere a snowy glow although the room was contentedly warm.

Returning her gaze to her plate, there were small menus lying beside the customary golden plates and utensils. Unsure of what to do, Fleur fleetingly looked to Roger, though he apologetically gave her a look sharing his bewilderment and transferred his gaze to his Headmaster.

The old wizard perused his menu, and then said quite clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!" Suddenly, pork chops appeared on his plate. Understanding, the rest of the table followed his example and placed their orders with their plates.

Fleur turned to Roger, "Zis is nothing," She informed him, "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze Dining Chamber at Chreestmas." She recalled her amazement the first time she saw the impressive festivities at Beauxbatons, "Zey do not melt, of course … zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood-nymphs 'oo serenade us as we eat." Her tone seemed even more criticizing, "We 'ave none of zis ugly armour in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like _zat_." Fleur emphasised her point by impatiently striking a beautifully manicured hand onto the table.

She looked expectantly at him and pretended he had not misguided his fork to his mouth as he quickly copied her gesture, "Absolutely right." He agreed, "Like _that._ Yeah." Fleur continued to eat her salad, which even without a background wood-nymph choir, was delicious. She felt glad that Roger was making an effort for her – her Veela charm on him would fade slightly as he became accustomed to her presence once more, and she looked forward to that time when she could converse further with him.

After the food had all been consumed, the tables floated to the side, clearing a wide space for a dance floor. The Weird Sisters, wearing shredded black robes, appeared on the platform to eager applause. Roger stood up and led her to the dance floor as the Weird Sisters began a slow song. Even if their atmosphere was not as astounding as she was used to, Roger did dance exceedingly well. When the song ended, he showed no sign of wanting to let her go, seeming quite content to remain on the dance floor despite the penetrating stares of jealous onlookers.

When she got so out of breath she could not dance any more, Fleur admitted to needing a drink. Roger immediately acquiesced and returned to the table where she had been discussing the ball with a few of her Beauxbatons friends. She had to admit she liked Roger, even if his school was a bit dreary, and showed no objection to being guided outside into the maze of twinkling rose bushes with him for a chance to known him better.

She laced her slim finger with his, feeling the roughness of his palm, no doubt from the coarse broomstick he spent so much time on. She glanced slyly up at him for a reaction, and he rewarded her with another handsome smile, his pace to reach the glimmering gardens quickening.

As they searched for a secluded bench in the labyrinth of rose bushes, they came across various couples half concealed in rose bushes; they seemed to be enjoying the evening immensely. They strolled down the winding paths, walking close to one another,

"I 'ave a smaller seester, Gabrielle," Fleur replied to Roger, "Et she lives in France aussi. She will be going to Beauxbatons when she is eleven, mais for now, she lives with my mother and father at 'ome. Most times, my father is away for work." She chose an intricate bench, weaved out of iron with a wooden seat and back, to seat herself upon, Roger sitting next to her genially. Nearby a tall statue, they could just see the highest point of the splashing fountain, its water droplets seeming violet in the glowing light.

"Do you miss him?" He asked, caressing the back of her hand lightly with his thumb. She smiled at the gesture,

"At first when I went to Beauxbatons, oui. Now I am used to it – 'e was nevair 'ome for long even when I lived there all the time, so it was only a small change. I miss my seester a lot, mais she sends me many owls." She told him, "Et you?"

"I also have a younger sister, Sophia. She is here at Hogwarts in her first year." He answered, "Carl, my older brother, left Hogwarts and is now working in the Ministry of Magic, keeping Quidditch matches and World Cups secret from the muggles."

"So your family 'as a talent for Quidditch, oui?" She said coyly, running her other hand up to his shoulder. She felt the muscles there tense nervously.

Roger laughed, pulling her gently up, his other hand resting softly on her waist. He led her into a niche in to the maze, "Well I like to think so, yes." Fleur laughed as she leaned upwards slightly, catching a last glimpse of the dark flowers, appearing mauve in the dim glow.

She closed her eyes as Roger leaned down to her, catching her lips in a kiss. He kissed as expertly as he danced and it was Fleur that regretfully broke away to breathe. Her eyes fluttered open again, though now there was something haunting about the sinister green lingering around the leaves surrounding them. Fleur ignored it, content in Roger's protective embrace to lean up for another kiss.

_**I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**Love,**_

_**x Imperial Princess x**_


	6. Chapter V, Green

**Disclaimer: I was going to give an example of ****social influence as, "The majority of authors on conform to the idea of wanting to own Harry Potter" … but I decided that my Psychology class would just laugh.**

**Through A Tinted Veil**

_Chapter V – Green_

**Previously:**

_She closed her eyes as Roger leaned down to her, catching her lips in a kiss. He kissed as expertly as he danced and it was Fleur that regretfully broke away to breathe. Her eyes fluttered open again, though now there was something haunting about the sinister green lingering around the leaves surrounding them. Fleur ignored it, content in Roger's protective embrace to lean up for another kiss._

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To Fleur's dismay, most of her time after the Yule Ball was spent in the Beauxbatons' carriage trying to work out the strange wailing sounds that the egg emitted when anyone opened it. After the excitement of the dance, the Beauxbaton's students had been gloating to one another about the superiority of their school's magnificence, and the spiteful competitiveness had somewhat lessened. Of course, this might have been something to do with the international friendships made through the occasion, though the theory was not uttered aloud.

Even Fleur had to admit privately to herself that she was missing Roger's company. However, the less time her mind spent lingering on the handsome Ravenclaw, the more time there was for sitting with her fellow students attempting to work out the egg's message.

"C'est impossible!" One of the girls said hopelessly, offering the egg back to Fleur. They sat dejectedly in a circle, trying not to give up hope. Their ears were hurting from the loud screeching, and no matter what they tried, nothing seemed to work.

Madame Maxime walked past her students on her way out of the carriage, giving them an encouraging smile. She paused to reassure her students that she was sure inspiration would strike soon, before resuming her path to the door. As her heel turned, there was a clink of glass and the pitcher of water sitting beside the girls clattered over, splashing water over them. Fleur dropped the egg as the girls scrambled to stand up so as not to touch the cold water.

The egg opened on the floor and as the students made to cover their ears, a gurgling sound came out of the egg. The girls looked around each other in confusion, but one of them reached for her wand. With a whisper of "_Augamenti_." Water began to pour from the tip into the open egg. The indecipherable gurgling cleared as the egg became full of water. The tint to Fleur's vision wavered smugly as though in a heat wave as a song began to emerge from the murmuring. The girls stilled at once as they all listened intently,

"_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour – the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Avid discussion broke out from beaming girls that crowded around Fleur to puzzle out the mystery. She acted as though she was ecstatic, but a sinking feeling in her stomach told her that the sinister green had not felt smug for nothing.

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

Although content with the knowledge that she had made considerable progress with the Second Task preparation, if asked, Fleur would agree with the rest of the Beauxbatons students that the actual practicalities of remaining under water for an hour were not likely to be figured out by accident. However, she had spent the better part of the morning after breakfast with Roger. She had met the timid Sophia, who seemed in awe of her older brother, and she had talked with Roger alone after Sophia had gone off with her friends. He had described his summer last year when he had accompanied his uncle to Egypt on Ministry Business acting as a tour guide whilst really keeping the muggle tourists safe from curses placed by the Ancient Egyptians whilst they explored some of the pyramids.

When she had asked about his Quidditch playing, Roger had joked that Viktor Krum would be able to give her more spectacular stories than he would. He seemed genuinely surprised when she replied that she would not care for them, and that she would rather hear his opinion over Krum's anyway. Roger did not seem to understand why, and in return Fleur had told him a little more about her childhood and life back home. She had had an almost celebrity status at home, so she knew how empty the position was. She explained that because she was so well known, she had not really got a real view of the world as she had been sheltered because of who she was. It was a novelty for her that Roger treated her like he did, and was prepared to talk with her like any other young witch.

So after spending a thoroughly enjoyable morning with Roger, it was with regret that Fleur left the warmth of Hogwarts across the cold grounds to the Beauxbatons carriage. He had offered to walk her back, but she politely declined, as she saw no point in them both getting cold. He had laughed and wrapped his cloak around her shoulders, and stood at the old oak doors of the castle watching her, despite her shooing hand movements for him to get inside, until she had climbed the steps into her carriage.

She drifted towards her friends in an almost daze, unconsciously stroking the soft Hogwarts crest on Roger's cloak.

"Fleur?" A voice called, "Fleur?" A little louder … she blinked as a beautifully manicured hand waved in front of her face. She looked up to see a small group of her friends around her on the soft carpeting scattered with cushions that made up a little living room. She smiled sheepishly as she realised they had been trying to talk to her.

"It eez like you were in a leetle _bulle_ of your own!" One of the girl exclaimed as the others laughed gently.

"Désolé," she apologized, "I was thinking about my morning avec Roger." She joined in their laughter. As it died down one of the girls gasped suddenly and put her hand to her mouth, "What eez eet?" Fleur asked her.

"Zat eez eet!" She smiled around, though some of the girls swapped confused looks with each other, "Ze _bubble-'ead_ charm! Zat is 'ow you can stay under ze water!"

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

As she stepped near the freezing cold water of the icy lake, Fleur stared down into the murky depths. Looking back at her reflection gazing up at her, she suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what the judges were going to take. Gabrielle hated water. She couldn't swim at all. She had been scared of water ever since she fell off the side of their boat whilst sailing in France. How Fleur wished she had been quiet about Gabrielle – then they would not have thought to take her! She steeled herself to do her school proud. Worrying would do no good. It might not be Gabrielle, there was no guarantee…

That Bagman wizard was talking to the crowd in his magically enhanced voice.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…" Her breathing was getting faster, "Two…" She shut her eyes, trying to calm herself down, "_Three_!" Fleur dived gracefully into the lake and performed her charm perfectly. She laughed to herself before turned to look at her surroundings. She was sure that the mer-people would be hiding right at the bottom of the lake.

Fleur swam deeper and deeper, her heart racing, pushing past tangled strands of slimy weeds, grey stones snatching on her hair, cutting her arms as she pushed them away. The plants were coated in mud, and she came to a stretching forest of them, almost opaque. The lake was surrounded in an eerie silence apart from a faint rootless song that she recognised from the egg drifting through the clumps of weeds. There was no way around it – she would have to go through the dark green mist of plants. She felt something was wrong, an oppressive feeling of ominous foreboding.

As Fleur managed to make her way into the meadow of weeds and logs, she felt a webbed hand grasp her ankle firmly; she turned around and saw a water demon with horns smirking evilly at her, bearing its fangs. She tried to cast aside its horrible pale green face and recall her Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Grindylows had long fingers and had a strong grip, but their fingers were easy to break.

Reaching down to grab the first Grindylow, she grabbed its hand, but a second came up behind her to pull her back. They snatched at her as she cried out, not able to reach her wand as they held her back, dragging her away, further and further from where she knew she was.

She would be lost forever; no-one would ever find her. She would drown! Oh _now_ she understood Gabrielle's fear of water. It was horrible – these creatures were taking her away, she would never see her friends and family again, she would never get married or have children or have a future! Tears dissolved into the bubble around her, which also took on a murky emerald hue.

Those haunting words came back to her,

"_But past an hour – the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Oh Gabrielle! Now _she_ was lost forever, and it was all because of Fleur. She didn't deserve to be champion, she wasn't the best. Why did she think she could do this? She had let everyone down and now Gabrielle would drown because of it. She would die of her worst ever fear, the fear Fleur had always assured her she would never let happen. And now it was all her fault! Red sparks flew out of her wand in anger.

Fleur was so distressed she hardly noticed that the Grindylows had changed their course and were dragging her up towards the surface. They threw her up out of the water, breaking her charm as she coughed and spluttered. A gasp echoed around the stands as a team of wizards standing by rescued her from the water, her body choking and shaking with sorrow.

Madame Maxime rushed to meet her with a fluffy towel as a ring of gossip murmured around the crowd. A few of her closer friends shielded her body from the gawking view of onlookers as she fought Madame Maxime's strong grip to return to the water. She was firmly held down as a motherly matron held her chin to force a steaming liquid down her throat that she recognised as Pepper up Potion. There was a slightly strange taste to it and Fleur felt a feeling of calm infuse into her along with the warmth.

She halted her struggles for a moment, but refused to leave the side, disregarding the advice and stares of thousands of eyes. "It was ze Grindylows - zey captured me," she choked despondently, "I could not break zem – zer was too many."

Sympathetic friends shushed her with words of comfort and assured her that it did not matter. She had been chosen as the best of them, so they could have done no better. Madame Maxime still kept her grip on Fleur as her eyes stayed fixed to the water, waiting for the winning champion to return to tell her if Gabrielle was still down there. Would the mer-people bring her up? Or would they eat her alive?

Fleur let out a whimper as she waited agonisingly for the surface of the ghostly green water to break once more, a ripple of excitement thronging around the stands as they discussed the possibilities of the outcome.

_**I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**I know it has been far too long since I have updated, but I hope you don't all hate me for it. The last few weeks have caused quite a reduction in my confidence, so if you do have anything positive to say, please, I would really like to hear it.**_

_**Love,**_

_**x Imperial Princess x**_


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